Post Marla Depression Syndrome
by Tigerdust
Summary: Tyler finds himself in Chile after Marla's suicide and living off of stolen money from right before the final blow of Project Mayhem. Dom recognizes a lot of himself when he sees Tyler at the bar. Maybe it's just south of perfect, but who cares?


_I am Jack's inner urges_. The words were hollow, just like the last swig of the Corona from the now empty bottle. He had been Tyler, Jack, some pissed off man named Monty with a bad fake id, and now he was just a runaway. True, fugitive would have been a better word. That was, if the police had ultimately not been in on it.

The world had not descended into the chaos that Tyler had hoped for. Scratch that. The world that he had hoped for. Tyler had been him, or perhaps he had been the pussy fiction of Tyler Durden. At this point, there was no way to know. It had been obvious though which one Marla had preferred. It had been obvious to the point of self-suicide that she loved the boring tie Tyler, but needed to fuck corvette-stealing Tyler. Something had been wrong in both heads there.

This bar loved boxing on the television. Just like everything else, including the bartender, the place was old and grainy without even a pity attempt at attracting a new, hip crowd. This suited Tyler just fine by virtue of the fact that the last time he had felt young and hip, his place had been blown up with mustard bottles while he was in the air.

That fucking bald guy in the corner was still staring at him. Tyler would have loved that interested stare, the dubious nature of the hot man candy that one could only assume was buzzed. Funny thing was that "Jack" had been keeping an eye out on this character since the moment he had oozed past and settled harshly into a dark corner. At the very least, Tyler understood the dark corner thing. Who needed bright fucking linoleum buzzing all around your head?

The bald man was swaggering over now, beer in hand. He didn't even look like he could get drunk, but he did look like he could be mean. _Must be nice not to look like some fuckin' scrawny necked pencil pusher desperate to cry out enough against the world that you make up a fucking imaginary friend who actually succeeds in doing things you only really ever should have dreamed of, _Tyler related to himself angrily_._

"You'd better take it easy on the fuckin' beer."

Dom was looking at Tyler, his hunched back trying to shrivel into the bar's woodworking. Tyler grabbed his next beer in response and took a long drag. "And who are you, my parole officer?"

"No. Cause if that were the case, I'd be dragging your punk ass all through this bar until you had enough to go home."

Tyler talked with a jagged edge to his voice, thinking of the fight he'd had with Angel face. "I wouldn't recommend that."

"Pretty big fuckin' talk for someone who looks like a strong breeze would knock you over. I'm just trying to be a friend."

"Is that so?" Tyler turned his head and let Dom see the small bit of crazy Tyler that lay inside his socket. "I've had enough friends to last a lifetime."

"Drinking isn't the best way to deal with your shit."

Tyler chuckled. "You haven't known me long enough to say that."

"Yeah, well, if they gotta haul us to jail because I laid you flat," Dom whispered as he moved in closer to Tyler's personal bubble, "then I figure we'll have a lot of time to spend together."

Tyler shook his head and began to rattle off numbers, followed by the names of cities. "...Three in Houston, Five in Vegas, and two for those pussies in Seattle. God, even the hippies wanted it...."

Dom couldn't be sure what the man was talking about, only that he felt both an affinity for the cracking stranger and that there was something that this man needed to fill and beer wasn't the trick. Dom knew the feeling, he knew it the way he knew the punch of NOS in one of his old babies. Dom would later insist that it wasn't a mistake that he had made placing a round hand on Tyler's shoulders. It was just a test.

But something inside Tyler snapped. He had only been touched while in fights and his instincts took over. Visions of Marla lay burned in his brain while the alter-ego fucked her. The red stains from Angel Face all over the floor. The nausea from being in a self-inflicted car crash. Thinking he was happy playing golf on Paper Street with himself. And now this brick-built shit slinger trying to play Dr. Phil? That was the end string snapping the last vestiges of Tyler's normalcy.

Dom took Tyler's surprising strength in stride. He had been jeered with worse comments like "The Thing" before, so the game talk didn't unsettle him. He just signaled to the Chilean bartender, who found something urgent to do in the back. There were no other patrons, Dom didn't mind an audience but he didn't particularly feel like hurting anyone this evening. Even at this point, Bri was out of the question. After all, he had a life in Chile now and Mia even seemed to find some peace on occasion. This reject business punk didn't seem like a big deal.

He felt the punches to his gut, but he could tell that Tyler was out of practice and running on pure fury. "Is that the best you got?" Dom pitied the poor bastard. He just looked wrung out and exhausted.

Then Dom stopped playing around when Tyler knocked him square on the chin after a fake-out. Dom wasn't a fan of games and the runt had taken it a bit far. Dom shrugged and then used his right gun to knock Tyler flat and almost cold. Dom called to the bartender that he could come back out and the he picked Tyler up, flinging him over his back like a sack of potatoes. His car was waiting outside and that would do a lot better than a cab. Dom never got drunk enough to need to catch a cab anyways.

Cold glass. Tyler could feel it soothing the bruise on his cheek. For a moment, he mused that his cheek might have been cut open. It simulated that same feeling he had felt before. Tiny dots meant someone had forgotten to take off a ring. Slashes meant someone was fighting dirty with a chain. But a feeling like this meant....a car window? Tyler was freaked out. The world was moving fast as though...._oh shit_, Tyler thought. He hadn't had the presence of mind to not get knocked out.

"You're awake." Dom stated as though driving home an inebriated stranger were the most natural thing in the world.

Tyler assessed the man, who obviously tanked in brain cells as much as he tanked up his own body. _That could be a dangerous combination_, Tyler thought before his sense of self protection came into play,_ and this certainly seems to be a dangerous situation._

"What do you want?" Tyler verbalized the thoughts in his own head.

Dom stared straight ahead, his knuckles gripping the wheel as he cruised the empty, darkened streets. "I figure we got a lot in common and I don't like the thought of someone like me living on the street."

"I'm nothing like you and I'm not living on the street!" Tyler growled.

Dom shrugged, unfazed by the rottweiler bearing his teeth at a massif pit bull, so to speak. "That may be. But you smell like it and I figure I can at least get you cleaned up before I turn you lose back on society and the cops haul you in."

Tyler wasn't sure if thanks was a good phrase in this case. He wasn't exactly broke, but he was living on borrowed and stolen money from his old days. Once those funds dried up, he'd probably find some shit job on the docks and stink even worse than he currently did. Truth was, he didn't bathe more than twice a week now and he didn't even pretend to want to do anything except for fight and snarl. Hell, maybe he was reverting. Old Tyler would have wanted that. He wasn't even sure what new Tyler wanted anymore. He felt that sudden, empty aloneness that gripped his soul more than he knew, more than the pain of losing Marla, who had finally succeeded in swallowing enough pills.

The silence was broken by a rough cough from Dom. "It's customary when you're saving a man's life to at least get a thanks for the deal."

Tyler felt himself shrinking back into the seat. "Are you so sure that I'm worth saving?"

"It's that kind of bullshit that reminds me of me along time ago. It's time to grow up...." Dom hung onto the end of the question, waiting for the stranger to at least drop his name.

"Jack."

"Why do I get the feeling that's a new name?"

"It was Tyler...or maybe Jack...I can't really fucking remember anymore."

Dom nodded. "Fair enough. I'll call you TJ then until you sort your shit out a bit more. The name's Dom, by the way. I'd shake, but I'm a bit preoccupied."

"Dom?" Tyler jerked his head over to the driver's side window in disbelief. "That's your name."

"My mother gave me that name. Our uncle Dominic was a good man to us. I wouldn't recommend disrespecting the family like that."

Tyler felt very small suddenly. "Sorry...any other family I should know about?"

"Just my sister Mia. Fuck her and I'll be eating your brains for lunch over beans." Dom's face was dead serious although his voice had an intonation of making a joke. "But she's up in the mountains this weekend have a spiritual experience." And by spiritual experience, Dom meant that she was having a race off the mountainside which would make any sane person pray to some god or another.

"You all live together?"

"Sometimes. Family's all we got in this world, TJ."

Tyler wasn't interested in letting the conversation steer toward family, so he let the silence fall. "Yeah."

Dom was studying the man in the passenger's seat. He was crumbling quicker than Brian, a sad desperation and anger clinging to his life and fueling the poor man into overdrive. Dom could relate to the feeling and loathed ever going back to that place before the cars and races. The cars were his tai chi, his anger medication, his way of life. TJ was just as lost as he'd been. Dom hadn't felt this much pity since he knew what would happen to Brian the moment he snatched the keys from his hand. That had been the next to last time they'd had contact.

"Home." Dom stated as he pulled up to the simple house with the garage. He fixed up cars in the desert yard behind the house, affording what he needed and forgetting the rest.

Tyler whistled. He was more impressed than he had ever been with his apartment for young professionals or the rundown shack on Paper Street. This was a place that said home. There was a plant in the front yard, a stray black dog running rampant down the street and yipping silently at any person who would go to scratch its ears. True, car parts were strung in the driveway and the place looked as dusty as the rest of Chile, but Tyler couldn't remember ever having pride in anyplace enough to call it home.

"You planning on staying in the car all night?"

Tyler exited the vehicle quickly and sunk down on a couch once they were inside. Dom shook his head as Tyler dozed.

"Oh no, you don't. Shower first."

Dom reached down toward Tyler's shirt and picked him up from the furniture, dragging him down the hall at a slow clip. "What the fuck are you doing?"

They stopped in front of the open bathroom door and Dom blinked as he flipped on the light. "How do I know you're not just gonna kill yourself once I close the door behind ya? If I don't go in, you may never come out again."

Tyler opened his mouth and then his argument deflated itself. The finger he had raised to make a point lowered and he followed Dom into the bathroom. Dom shut the door behind them both. It was bright lighting and Tyler hissed at his own reflection in the mirror.

"Don't tell me I have to strip you too."

_Good night,_ Tyler thought, _this guy's gonna fucking rape me._ And then a small part of Tyler thought that maybe he deserved it. That maybe it wouldn't be so bad. Tyler began to work his shirt off, exposing his back and the various scars from the various fights, cuts from sharp cardboard edges and cement imprints, an occasional boot print from when he had fallen wrong.

"Good night! What the hell have you been doing with yourself, TJ?" Dom was amazed by the scarification all over Tyler's lean frame.

"I like to fight." That was the understatement of the century.

"Some of that fighting looked like it was unhealthy for you."

Tyler yanked down his crusty gray undershorts without an argument. "Healthier than the alternative."

Dom watched the nearly skeletal frame as it reached behind the curtain and flip on some water, jumping back a bit when it was too cold. He folded his arms. "Just give the water a minute to warm up."

"I hope you've got lube in here, Dom. Cause if you're gonna rape me, then I'm sure as hell not gonna chafe from it."

"What makes you think rape is involved here?"

Tyler couldn't think of an appropriate response. It seemed dumb and naïve to say it was because one man was naked in another man's shower. Perhaps the contact was it, maybe it was just wishful thinking.

Dom flipped through an old magazine as Tyler soaped up his body, noting the way the lather clung to the dirt. How long had it been since he'd been a proper human in a social setting, anyways? "What do you know about cars, TJ?"

Tyler thought for a moment while he shampooed, leaving his erection exposed behind the curtain. He was hot just from the thought of this guy, but Tyler still didn't consider himself gay. There was no obvious reason to point to it, either than old Tyler's ambiguous nature. What the hell, he thought, it's been a long time since he even wanted to be wanted. "Nothing special. They run on gas, one pedal brakes you at a red light. Bullshit like that. Dad never really valued cars."

Dom snorted. "I've got some experience if you want to learn. Maybe you could stick around til you get yourself on your feet."

Tyler turned off the water, grabbing the first towel from the rack and looking just briefly at Dom's healthy package just sitting lazily in his trousers while Tyler felt like a rock hard tire iron was jetting out from his balls. "You offering me a job? I've got cash."

"I figured, the way you drain beer. But you're running and I'm offering something more than money. All I'm saying is there's more to it than that."

Tyler snorted as they left the bathroom, him wearing nothing but a towel. Dom walked slowly further down the dark hallway and pointed to a door opposite his. "Your room."

"What? Not gonna sleep in the same bed to make sure I wake up?"

Dom shook his head. "I don't fuck things that are dirtier than pigs, TJ. And fucking ain't what you need right now. Get some sleep. We'll work things out bright and early in the AM."

With that, Dom entered his own room and slammed the door behind him. He stripped in half a second, leaving his hand to wander down the bare muscles of his body. His cock was obeying his wish to harden now after keeping its cool in the bathroom. He wanted to bed that angry, disturbed son of a bitch right across from him. But he had to wait, that's what would work it out in the end. The man was fragile, holding on by less than half a thread. But Dom was convinced he'd be fucking Tyler before too long. They both wanted it too much.

The only difference in Dom's breathing as he jerks his own meat is so subtle that even Brian didn't catch it. But Tyler was standing in the hallway, confused and more than half tempted to knock on Dom's door if only to get some form of response. Tyler felt an odd need to know he was alive. He whipped the towel away, half expecting Dom to run out of his own room, grab him and throw him into the ensuing darkness. But there was nothing.

Dejected, Tyler sulked into the room he was given. The bed was heaven compared to the pile of hay he lived on. There was a ceiling fan instead of a hanging bulb and a window that actually opened and shut. The walls were bare and the color of oatmeal. Tyler fell down onto the bed, and nearly began weeping. The sheets and blanket were fresh with some sort of laundry scent still attached. He missed things like that, the scent of laundry soap. Tyler Durden, more than anything, missed being human.

Morning came before too long. The sleep had been sound and tomb-like for Tyler. He had woken once and walked toward Dom's door but found nothing in response but exceedingly soft snores. That was unlike the sound that awoke Tyler. Voices could be heard firing NOS canisters through their souped-up engines. Dom was talking with his crew in the back and Tyler could her his booming voice talking with authority and assurance.

Sometime during the morning, Dom had walked in on his bare ass spread eagle in the bed and dropped some folded clothes next to them. He hadn't done anything, but Tyler couldn't have known how tempting the offer was. Tyler had forgotten that the one man who had ever fucked him was the man he had imagined all along.

Tyler wandered out into the backyard, being attacked by kindness from the black dog that had yipped at him earlier. It was smaller than Tyler remembered, but hosted a hell of a lot more energy.

"You're awake." Dom noted, along with how Tyler threw the ball to the dog and let a corner of his mouth crinkle as though a smile were such a simple yet foreign concept.

"How long did I sleep?" Tyler wondered aloud over the hustle and bustle of car maintenance.

"As long as you needed. Feel better?"

"I assume by better that you don't count the seventy-six trombones doing parade marching through my ears."

Dom shook his head. "Did you think about my offer?"

"I said I didn't know anything about cars."

"I said that doesn't matter."

Tyler sighed. "Do they ever win against you Dom?"

Dom beckoned Tyler over. "Nope."

The first day is always the most notoriously long and painful. Tyler Durden was a mess of grease and new oil. His head was havoc with facts and he even declined the beer that Dom snatched from the fridge for him. He was on the couch, almost asleep again, sun burnt and feeling as though he'd been put through twelve rounds with Dom as his unrelenting coach.

"What is it about a white couch that makes you so tired?"

Tyler shrugged in response and got up, obedient to the man who was following him in again to the bathroom. "I'm not gonna kill myself."

Dom just nodded and shut the door behind him as they entered and Tyler began fiddling with the knobs again. "I just want to tell you how impressive you were for the first day."

Tyler snorted. "Is this the way of thanking me for not blowing you up my first try out?"

"You don't know how to take a fucking compliment, do you?"

Tyler shook his head, dropping his new boxers at the same time. Dom watching his erection stiffen and Tyler did nothing to cover it. He just assumed that Dom was a watcher and Tyler could at some point make peace with that.

"You're pretty lean too. Mia'll start making you eat more so you don't die during lunchtime out there. We have some pretty long days."

"Funny. No one's complained about my weight before."

"How long have you been a fucking skeleton, TJ?"

Tyler stopped with the soap in one hand, watching the grease begin to circle down the drain. "Long enough."

Tyler assumed he was imagining the sound of Dom stepping from his clothes. But he was not. Indeed, Dom's rough and huge hands were grabbing him and pushing him forward just slightly enough so that they could fit in the shower together.

Dom was nothing like Tyler had imagined, and yet was just like everything he had wanted Dom to be. He was built to a point where his cock even looked like it was a muscle. There was no hair to speak of and various tattoos ran around the body, begging to be explored. Dom wouldn't let him turn to see his cock though. "Right answer."

In between breaths and having Dom's cock slapping against his ass, Tyler bothered to ask what he thought was a very important question. "I thought you didn't fuck pigs?"

Dom reached for Tyler's lean arms, almost burnt by the sun, and nodded against them with his teeth. "I don't. But what I do fuck, TJ, is men. Men who work hard and who want to survive. Men who want me back. And women, but I don't see any of those here."

"Dominic." Tyler whispered as he leaned back into the large body. Dom began to use to soap to trace the bruises and cuts everywhere along Tyler's skin. His cock was so hard, begging for contact and Dom was in control but not faring much better.

Tyler almost protested when Dom reached and shut the water off. But, he didn't have much time to react as he was sped down along the hallway and thrown onto Dom's bed. The room was much like Tyler's own except that Dom had a deep green comforter on his bed that smelled just like him. The scent itself was enough to drive Tyler's cock crazy. And then Dom turned, stark naked, from closing and locking the door.

Even in the twilight, Tyler could see his was built like a Greek statue. He was a perfect semblance of man, every possible ounce sculpted within himself. Tyler felt scrawny and ugly in comparison, but there wasn't much time to debate it. Dom's body was atop him, the shaft of his cock so close to Tyler's mouth.

"I know you want it. I know you need it. Fucking taste me, TJ." Dom knew Tyler so well. He was every man who'd gone to a prison without bars. Tyler was a lost submissive punk without any direction or guidance. And Dom's balls were full of hot cum, needing desperate release. Dom had left enough room for Tyler to move his arms as he tried to master the art of sucking cock, although Dominic would never tell Tyler that the touch of his tongue was almost enough.

Tyler's hands were grabbing and caressing at Dom's flesh, needing so much more than to be fucked by him. He wanted to feel him, needed to know how another man's heart could beat in this world. Tyler needed to know life and joy again. Tyler needed to know how to be with Dom.

"I can go twice if you want to taste it." Dom groaned as he leaned forward and back against Tyler's body. Tyler's cock would bounce against the crack of his ass every now and then, but Dom had no desire to know back door parole. He just knew that Tyler needed to feel every inch of him.

Tyler was having trouble forming a response, so Dom dismounted just briefly enough. And then Tyler felt breath and rough kisses against his own mouth. Dom was on top again and their cocks were rubbing and thrusting deep into each other's midsection. Dom's skilled hands pushed Tyler's head back as Dom's teeth tasted every inch of his neck. Tyler could feel the fingers hovering down around his hole and he was of no presence of mind to even say that he'd never really been fucked there.

But Dom knew and he knew how to be easy as well as rough. He was hard, but never impatient as Tyler learned how to take a lubed finger and then two fingers. Three fingers was the limit before the shaft and Tyler felt a slight bit of grease move across his stomach as Dom flipped his new friend onto his stomach, hard cock lying tented and swimming in the sheets.

The sound of the bottle terrified him as Dom squeezed more lube, but Tyler had seemed to have lost his vocal chords. He felt his own heartbeat rise as the springs squeaked and Dom had surrounded him again, breath on his neck. Tyler thought it was all so strange only because he assumed after old Tyler and Marla that he no longer had a heartbeat. But Dom was proving that wrong too.

Tyler didn't have the strength to pump back as Dom's cock leaned against the opening. He was just hoping not to cry out. But Dom knew that Tyler was scared and so Tyler felt himself lifting up from the bed, one of Dom's strong arms securely around his midsection and the other around the front of his shoulders.

"Don't forget to breath." Those were Dom's only words of advice as he slowly began entering Tyler's ass.

He pounded at an infuriating pace for both of them. You never get over the first time, the first bit of pain. But Dom, no matter how horny, had learned patience and the virtue of rewards for a job well done. He knew that his weapon was a fierce one and that it verged on being unnatural with its sexy nature. Dom assumed correctly that Tyler didn't mind that.

They fucked until the sun rode low in the sky and Tyler wasn't sure if he'd be able to walk in the morning. At some point, his body began to fall against the bed in exhaustion and want to cum. But Dom was holding his cock now and not quite letting either of them go just yet. It was madness going to the brink and back again like this. Even Dom, reliable and dominant Dom, was having trouble doing more than just falling over on top of Tyler and starting again.

Tyler realized then that he was waiting for the signal. So, taking the first of any initiative in what seemed like decades, Tyler let himself feel the worth of gold beyond the pain. He rammed back on Dom's cock and Dom found himself thrusting like a mad man. Dom groaned loudly enough to wake the neighborhood, and Tyler began to shoot onto the bed and into Dom's hand.

He had never felt another man cum in his ass. Dom was hot and the barrel of his gun didn't ever seem to finish unloading. They were ejaculating in ecstasy and in exhaustion. They lay together afterwards with Dom's cock still in Tyler and still occasionally with a grateful and warm thrust or two. Eventually, Dom slid out of Tyler, but neither moved.

Tyler, more grateful than he knew how to express, snuggled in closer and found himself unable to not sleep in Dom's arms. Dom didn't allow himself the pleasure of a smile until he heard Jack snoring softly against his arm and then his chest as Tyler turned into Dom and his chiseled body.


End file.
